The Pack's Daughter (Aysel and Magnus) novel Chapter 77

**Midnight Letters by Daniel Crowe**
**Chapter 77**

In the dimly lit room, the air was thick with an unsettling tension, a palpable silence that hung like a storm cloud ready to burst. Shock washed over the onlookers first, a momentary paralysis that was swiftly followed by a glimmer of opportunity.

As if sensing a shift in the atmosphere, a pack of ambitious wolves stirred, their instincts honed and sharp, like predators catching the scent of fresh prey. Their eyes sparkled with a dangerous hunger; they had just stumbled upon a golden opportunity to curry favor with Alpha Magnus, and the key to that power was none other than Aysel Vale.

Celestine and her mother were unceremoniously dragged into the scene, just in time to witness the spectacle unfolding before them. Wolves who typically held their heads high in arrogance now bowed low, their smiles stretching unnaturally wide, each vying to outdo the other in their attempts to flatter the Moonvale heiress.

Celestine’s heart sank as she felt a dark cloud settle over her thoughts.

Something was profoundly amiss.

Nothing about this night was adhering to her meticulous plans.

She had orchestrated every detail with precision, envisioning a flawless execution of her scheme. The engagement celebration was her stage, a perfect cover for her to slip away momentarily, ostensibly to retrieve a “special gift” she had prepared for Damon and Aysel. Outside, she had arranged for Dariusz’s family—the Taylors—to execute their part of the plan, “kidnapping” her as rehearsed.

Damon would be left with no choice but to intervene. Everyone knew the Taylors harbored a deep-seated hatred for Celestine, blaming her for Dariusz’s tragic demise, convinced that she had led him down a path of ruin. When they attacked, Damon’s sense of loyalty to the deceased would compel him to rush to her aid.

He would be unable to return to the festivities.

Aysel’s pride would never allow her to forgive such public humiliation. The union would inevitably crumble.

And when both families sought to salvage their reputations, the solution would be simple—replace the bride.

Celestine would ascend to her rightful place as Damon’s Luna.

With that title, she would never again have to feign her fainting spells or fragile health.

Yet, instead of the carefully orchestrated abduction she had envisioned, chaos erupted, drenched in blood and fury. The Taylors had arrived too soon, their madness unchecked. They ambushed her at the rear gate of the Moonvale manor, pressing a blade against her throat, their voices a cacophony of rage and grief echoing in the moonlight.

“Dariusz is dead! You’re out of your mind, mistaking every man for him!”

“Slut! Murderer! You seduced him, killed him, and stole his Alpha from him!”

Their words dripped with venom, each accusation a twisted reflection of their grief morphing into a frenzied rage. Even Dariusz’s mother, her sorrow transforming into a feral desperation, clawed at Celestine until Damon arrived, a whirlwind of panic, guilt, and instinct colliding within him.

He attempted to calm the situation, to command order, to shield her from the storm of fury.

But it was far too late.

As the Taylors retreated, dragging their madness with them, Damon left Celestine in a resting den, his duty torn between shame and loyalty.

Celestine waited, her heart pounding in her chest, anticipating the fallout that never came.

If she couldn’t delay him, all she could do was hope that time had eroded his bond with Aysel.

And if not—there was still Knox Draven.

Knox had whispered dark and violent promises to her before, words that lingered like a shadow in her mind.

“I’ll avenge you.”

“The Moonvale Pack will have only one daughter.”

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